


Blue blood

by My_name_is_Angelica_schuyler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Broken Families, Crazy Harry, Crying, Detective Niall, Detective Zayn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Flower Child Harry, Flower Child Louis, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Kinda, Language of Flowers, Lots of Crying, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Older Harry, Older Man/Younger Man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rich Harry, Rich Louis, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Sweet Louis, This is sick, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unhealthy Relationships, Young Louis, unhealthy harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9598895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_name_is_Angelica_schuyler/pseuds/My_name_is_Angelica_schuyler
Summary: “Close your eyes Louis.” Harrys arms tighten around me, and I think of James and what he said to me this morning.If you feel something, and it feels like love, just go to it, don't stop and think. It will only ruin your heart.Just go to it.And so I do.And I close my eyes.They find my body 4 days later.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there.
> 
> I really wanted to get back into writing again because I really miss it. So i thought why not start off with a brand new story? Im really excited to share this story with you guys and if you like it be sure to let me know. And If you guys also want me to finish the rest of my stories also Ill try and see what i can pull up. This story just shows how fucked up i am but i really like where its going already. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading,
> 
> Ashxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to start writing again. Hopefully I might actually finish this one. I hope you guys enjoy.

When I was 8 years old my grandmother died. 

 

And it broke my heart. 

 

I was always close to her, more than my own parents and she always seemed to understand me despite what people would call my certain "flaws and predicaments".  Flaws and predicaments meaning my peculiarities and unsatisfied nature of the way my life seemed to be. While I was still a child I was old enough to notice that I was in fact better off than most kids money and name wise.  

 

I was a Tomlinson 

 

And we were dripping money, class, and gold like it was nothing. I was everything. 

 

I had everything. 

 

But I didn’t want it. 

And that was unheard of. 

 

How could a child not want all the toys and clothes they were given? How could a child only want the love of their parents when they were capable to have that and more? 

I couldn’t answer the question. I still can answer the question. But I can answer why when my grandmother died life began to grow a lot quicker than before. 

You see reader, I didn’t understand death. I only understood what my mother told me, which was: 

 

 _Grandma is going away to a better place for some time._  

 _Don’t_ _worry my sweet Louis,_  

 _You'll_ _see her again_  

 _Just you wait._  

 

And that was all she ever had to say to me on that subject matter.  

And me being the peculiar child I was, I didn’t ask anymore questions. Ever.  

I simply went on with life, repeating her sentences in my head whenever I started to miss my grandma a little too much. 

 

But me also being the unsatisfied child I was, I did always want to know more. 

What did she mean by a better place?  

Was it possible? 

There was no place in the world that could top our home in Los Angeles. 

I was sure of it. 

I traveled with my family and I seen every corner of the world. 

 

India 

China 

England 

Tokyo 

Dominican Republic 

And none of them could compare to the way my bed felt after the sheets and pillow cases were just washed. 

My grandmother felt the same. 

 

 _Money is money Louis._  

 _But home is worth so much more._  

 _I wouldn’t trade it for the world._  

 

She would say. 

So I was quite positive my mother was wrong. Grandma was in fact not in a better place. Because that better place was here, right by my side.  

She told me not to worry but I did. I worried where my grandmother was, and if she was alright. I wondered if she had those diamond earrings on, the ones she loved so much. If she had that peach lipstick in her Dior clutch. I just wanted to know if she was alright. 

 

If she missed me. 

I hoped she did. 

Because I missed her. So much it began to hurt.  

 

And at 8 years old, when other children were thinking of toys and candy, I was thinking of going to find my grandma in that better place. The one in which it was almost impossible to return from.  

 

But my mother told me I would see her again. 

 

 _Just you wait._  

 

So I pushed these thoughts aside and began to accept the tinsel town life I was born into. But I always wondered when I would see my grandmother again. 

I always wondered where was this "better place" and what was it like. 

 

I thought I would have more time to wonder. 

 

I thought I would have more time to imagine this "better place". 

 

I mean my reader don’t we all? 

 

But it seems under certain circumstances, my daydreaming and wondering were to be put on halt for a much more important matter. 

 

My death. 

 

I had never had the time to finish my wondering of the "better place." I simply was ripped from one reality and thrown into another reality less known, and more magical. 

 

So my reader, this is where it begins. This is when I began my search for the "better place." 

 

But 

When I was 8 years old my grandmother died. 

 

And When I was 17 years old I was murdered. 

 

And shortly before my killer was to attack, I remember what my mother said to me all those years ago. 

 

 _Don’t_ _worry my sweet Louis,_  

 _You'll_ _see her again_  

_Just you wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im soo sorry for this chapter being so ridiculously long. Had a lot to introduce. Please continue reading I know you can get through it. I hope you enjoy and Im sorry for the long chapter and spelling and errors.
> 
> Ashxx

_December 24, 1957 , the day before_

 

 

 

"Good morning Mr. Louis"

 

James opens up my curtain to let in the sunlight. And I see it before I feel it. The burning sensation of the sun and its so bright I squint my eyes even though they are already closed. It hurts a little and I groan in response.

 

I was never a morning person.

 

After the excruciating pain, I began to feel the warmth. It’s a little cold out and the sunlights through the windows, but despite all the chillinessthe sun still manages to warm my face.

 

It’s a small warmth. The one you end up chasing for because it isn't enough.

 

I move the blanket to cover my face, eyes still closed.

 

"Oh please Mr. James leave me to drown in my bed for a few minutes more, my tardiness will not upset my parents I'm sure of it, please Mr. James you must or I'm afraid I will die of both the cold, and the grueling headache that has set itself into my head. Mr. James have mercy."

 

I suppose I was a bit dramatic.

 

"I'm afraid I cant Mr. Louis for your mother gave me strict orders to have you up by 8 today, seems like you have a grand day ahead for you."

 

He gently pulls the blankets off of me and I groan even louder.

 

"Surely you must understand what great pain you are causing me. Why I thought you were a gentleman Mr. James. Gentlemen do not steal the warmth of a kind hearted soul."

 

He smiles at that.

 

 

 

"It seems Mr. Louis that you have been watching romantic movies again, for you sound like a wide eyed small town girl."

 

"Aren't I?"

 

"I suppose so."

 

He begins to take out some clothes from my closet.

 

"Now what shall you be wearing for this special occasion?"

 

I roll my eyes.

 

"Its hardlya special occasion, Mr. James."

 

"Your 17th birthday isn't special."

 

"I think not."

 

"Well I disagree, you grow up so fast."

 

I get up from the grand bed and make my way to the washroom and began my routine.

 

Mr. James continues.

 

"Seems like yesterday you were a small baby, playing with your toy cars and sticking your tongue out through the gaps of your teeth."

 

I can hear the smile in his voice.

 

 

 

And I smile at that.

 

"You left out the parts that I was a small baby with 3 maids and 4 nannies, or that the toy cars were custom made gold cars that were worth more than half the city Mr. James."

 

I walk out just in time to see him shaking his head.

 

"Nonsense, there was no reason for me to say so. For I only saw a baby and some toys and very big gap."

 

"You delight me greatly James."

 

He hands me the clothes.

 

"Get dressed Mr. Louis, your parents are waiting in the main dinning room."

 

"Ahh, it must be Christmas if my parents are willing to give me the grandest of them all!"

 

"I suppose so Mr. Louis, for anything can happen to one on Christmas, especially one as trusting or as kind as you."

 

"You flatter me."

 

He gives a bow and exits the room gracefully.

 

I am soon left to the walls of my room and the light through my windows.

 

The walls are painted a deep beige color, it used to blue but I changed it for my 15 birthday. Long windows sit on the left side with heavy drapes spinned from gold. I had the workers put in wooden floors, because I always thought carpets got dirty too easily. The room was filled with furniture I didn’t really care for, I only ever needed my bed and vanity. But even though I didn’t pay attention to the furniture I was still able to know that it was overly priced and spinned from the finest of material. My vanity was my favorite though. The entire thing was made up of mahogany and painted white. I switched the mirror to an oval one much bigger than the original, I wanted it to look like Hollywood. My hair brushes and perfume and a few lipsticks- to my fathers dismay laid on the vanity in a particular formation, thanks to the maids. The handles to the drawers resembled vines except they were made of gold. I had the workers put up wall decor that was identical to the vines. The maids, Mary and Lane made sure my room smelled of cinnamon and Chanel number 5 all the time. Always.

 

 

_Money. Th ey said._

 

_Louis it smells like money._

 

I suppose it did. But then again I always had money so I was quite used to the "smell."

 

My mother smelled like it.

 

Maybe that’s why I always wanted my room to smell like it.

 

When I was younger, my mother would come in just before I was about to fall asleep. She would pull the blankets up to my chin, wipe the strays of my hair from my forehead and give me light kiss.

 

I never saw her in the daytime only at night.

 

Just before my eyes were to close for rest.

 

_Goodnight my sweet Lo uis,_

_Ma y your dreams be as kind as you._

 

Then for a quick moment, a fleeting second the scent of Chanel and cinnamon would fill my nostrils and I would be engulfed in it. I would feel the warmth of her lips on my forehead.

 

And smell the scent I would come to label as

 

_M om._

 

 

After I turned 11 my mother stopped coming to tuck me in. The maids said it was because her and my father would fight and argue until they had no more energy and she would be too tired to walk to my side of the manor.

 

But sometimes.

 

The maids would secretly say I looked too much like my father and she just couldn’t look at me without crying.

 

I think that’s the reason now.

 

But I miss her. Even if she doesn’t miss me. I wanted to go to her but Mary told me that she was terribly busy and wouldn’t have the time.

 

So instead.

 

I made sure my room always smelled of her.

 

Smelled of _mom_ and _money._

 

Once I was finished I made my way to the dinning room, each step I was preparing to meet my parents.

 

I haven't seen them in a long time. My father was always out late with work, one of the great perks to being a lawyer. And my mother, I never knew exactly `what she did during the day but it must have been pretty important for her to forget about me.

 

Sometimes I forget what they look like, and what they sound like.

 

The Tomlinson manor smells of eggs and beacon and through the echo halls I can hear Lane's radio on Christmas carols filling up the open empty air.

 

 

 

There was to be a Christmas party tomorrow night here.

There always was.

 

The Tomlinson family threw the grandest Christmas parties in the entire cityof Los Angeles. One of the many things we were known for.

 

Oh reader you should've seen the way this place was in the happenings of a party. Dressed to the nines, dunked in gold and tinsel.

 

Breathtaking.

 

But as soon as the tinsel went up.

 

It came down within the next few days.

 

My mother didn’t really like Christmas decorations all that much. She said it looked cheap and tacky.

 

And who was I to tell her differently?

 

"Mornin' Mister Louis"

 

I was greeted by Lane setting the table with a batch of pancakes and her toothy grin.

 

"Why hello Ms. Lane, breakfast smells lovely today." I smiled

 

These were the people that raised me.

 

The real people.

 

I had known Mary, Lane, and James for my entire life. They taught me everything I know.

 How to ride a bike.

 

 

How to make gumbo.

 

And how to be kind.

 

Miss Lane told me about the world and how the two of us lived in very different ones.

 

I was in the perfect world where nothing could hurt me because of my good name and wealth.

 

Lane was in a dangerous world where everyone wanted to hurt her because of her skin color and gender.

 

_You a lucky boy Lou._

_You livin a life a bliss and power._

_Understand that._

 

And I did.

 

I was lucky. And I would never forget.

 

And I owed it all to the people sitting in front of me.

 

My parents.

 

My fatherwas born in England and out of old money, his father being head of the Queen's counsel, and his great grandfather also being the head the counsels before that. It was my fathers turn to take title over, he was after all brilliant. Top of his class at The University of Cambridge, was the right hand man of his own father during his run of the Queens counsel. And Even worked closely with the Prime Minister during his early twenties.

 

 

It should've been his.

 

But he refused.

 

He met my mom, a beauty queen and teenage dream who had too many stars in her eyes to count.

 

She wanted to be an actress and he swore to her that he would make her dream come true.

 

My mom never became an actress. But she did become fabulously wealthy.

 

Same difference.

 

"Good morning my sweet Louis"

 

She didn’t look up from her novel.

 

"Hello mom, dad."

 

He grunted in acknowledgment.

 

I sat down at the other end of the dinning room table, I didn’t touch my food.

 

I wasn't really hungry.

 

"Happy birthday son."

 

My father said eventually.

 

"Thank you sir."

 

 

 

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

 

"We have much planned for you today darling."

 

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

 

"Sounds wonderful."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

 

"So eat up son."

 

"Shall you be joining us Daniel?"

 

"Why I see no reason not to, I've taken these two days off for my family. Might as well enjoy it."

 

"Thank you dad."

 

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

 

And that was how it was for the next half hour.

 

I stared at my parents. The way they functioned and how they performed. The simplicity of them yet

 

 

the unreeling elegance and perfection they seemed to live in. Its as if they were too perfect for the lives they lived.

 

Too perfect for everything.

 

When we were finished eating I was moved to the main foyer of the manor to wait for my parents.

 

"Where are they taking me?" I asked Mary.

 

"Cant tell, 's secret."

 

"Can I at least have a hint?'

 

"Yous too smart for a hint Lou, done figure out the whole trip in one split second Lou."

 

I smiled.

 

"You flatter me beyond recognition Mary."

 

She handed me my coat and I went to the car to wait for them.

 

Once we were all in the car, we drove in silence to the destination. I ended up falling asleep on the way, head drifted on my mothers shoulder and the scent of cinnamon and Chanel engulfing me just like those years before.

 

Oh was it lovely.

 

For the split second.

 

"My sweet Louis, open your eyes we are here."

 

 

 

They ended up bringing me to the new amusement park that recently opened up.

 

"Disneyland" She said.

 

I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion and it was still chilly outside but the notion was nice enough.

 

"Lovely." Was all I said.

 

After some rides and walking around, we stopped at a place to eat.

 

And this my reader.

 

This was when it happened.

 

A ripple in time. A fleeting moment that switched gears and forever changed the history I was soon to adapt.

 

"Mr. Tomlinson?"

 

"Why Harry is that you?"

 

"Sir!"

 

I didn’t look at his face. I didn’t even really focus on what he was saying.

 

Everywhere my dad went he was recognized, and soon I began to bleach the faces out, ignoring them completely. It was my dad they wanted to speak to.

 

Not me.

 

"Darling this is Harry Styles, Desmonds kid, what on Earth are you doing here?"

 

 

 

"I work here sir, for the experiencethat is."

 

I still continued to ignore their conversation.

 

Instead I directed my attention to the cotton candy machine.

I always did have a sweet tooth.

 

"Mother, can I get some?" I nodded to the cart.

 

"Yes just one moment my love."

"Now that’s what I'm talking about, should make Lou do the same, he can use some responsibility."

 

"Lou?"

 

I grew impatient.

 

"Mom please, before he leaves away."

 

"Oh Louis I beg one moment."

 

"Yes my son, I suppose its been a while since he and you seen each other, you were practically new borns when you were introduce."

 

I persisted.

"Mother please or I will die of starvation!"

 

"Oh Louis I really wish you wouldn’t be so dramatic."

 

"Say is Louis here sir"?

 

 

 

I didn’t notice my name being called.

 

I only noticed the soft pink and blue clouds on the white sticks.

 

I wished I noticed.

 

Oh how I wished.

 

"Why yes he's over here, hey Lou come here for a second wouldya?"

 

"Mother please!"

"Here my love."

She handed me the money.

 

"Now wait a minute Lou come here come meet the Styles boy."

 

"Oh father cant it wait? He's already walking away!"

 

"Who?"

 

"The cotton candy man!"

I couldn’t help but to smile.

 

"Hey Ill go with ya to track him down yea?"

And that’s when I turned.

 

He stood tall, almost taller than my father. He was skinny and his hair was nicely cut and styled with a cowlick. His eyes were green and lips pulled back into an innocent closed lipped smile.

 

 

 

I smiled back.

 

"I see no harm."

 

"Stay together Louis, you don’t know this place very well."

 

"Don’t worry Ill be fine."

 

"Ill protect him." He smiles.

 

I smiled back.

 

We began to walk in a comfortable silence, the one in which you feel like you have to say something but you don’t because you tired and you aren't uncomfortable anyway so what's the use?

 

But finally he speaks.

 

"Louis right?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I'm Harry, I suppose you don’t remember me."

 

"I'm sorry but I don’t."

"Yea I didn’t think you did, it was nearly 16 years ago."

"We've met?"

"Our fathers work together, I used to come over and play with you when we were young."

"I'm sorry I don’t remember."

"Yea I don’t really either, but my mom told me so and who would I be to think she was a liar. Never lied a day in her life she said, and I trust her. Why she's so honest I don’t even think she could be capable of telling a lie, would probably break down. She was always too kind."

 

 

"She sounds lovely."

"That she is, a southern belle they call her."

"How wonderful."

"Where's your mom from?"

"England, we all are."  
"That’s neat! But hey why don’t you have an accent like ya folks?"

"I'm afraid I was whisked awayto the states before I could even open my eyes."

"Ah I see, do you visit home often."

"Why of course, I live there."

He laughs at that.

"I mean your other home."

"We go back a few times a year, but I much rather prefer this home."

"Why?"

"This place is more magical I suppose. England is quite darling and all but its this city that excites me, its just so lovely."

 

A man dressed as a mouse walks past us.

 

"Why you cant get this in London!"

 

The boy laughs.

 

"I suppose this place can be nice at times."

"At times?"

"I don’t really like it here."

"Why not?"

"Too much people."

"Too many people you mean."

"Oh no."

He laughs, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck.

He's cute when he does that.

 

 

"What?" I giggle

"You're one of those people, the ones that correct everyone and start to lecture."

"I suppose I am, but its just because I don’t want you to use the wrong wording."

"I hate words."

"I love them."

"Pretty and smart. That’s a dangerous combination."

"You think I'm pretty?" I ask.

 

He looks taken back at that.

 

"Well yea, if you're not offended that is?"

"No I'm not. Thank you Harry."

He smiles again.

I smiled back.

 

We speak some more about the cities and places we've been. We talk about our families. Harry is just like me except his folks don’t have as much money as mine. His father wants Harry to be a lawyer like him but Harry wants to sing. He doesn’t tell his father though, he keeps it a secret.

 

I can see a curtain of sadness over him, it breaks my heart.

 

When we do stop he is asking about my plans.

 

"How old are ya?"

" I just turned 17 today actually."

"Oh my happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Does your dad want you to be a lawyer like him?"

"He doesn’t say, but I would imagine."  
"Do you?"

"No."

 

 

"What do you want to be Lou?"

"I don’t know."

"Well you should probably figure it out."

"I should."

"Will you?"

"Eventually."

"You're very peculiar Louis."

"I'mpeculiar and unsatisfied."

"Why unsatisfied, you have everything?"

"I have every pretty thing."

 

I began to let myself talk.

"I never really wanted this money, I just wanted love."

"Did you get it?"

"Not yet."

He goes quiet at that.

 

"Do you like boys Louis."

I would have been offended if I was normal.

But I wasn’t.

 

"Sometimes I do."

"Do you like me Louis?"

"I think you're rather easy to talk to Harry."

"Oh."

He blushes.

He's adorable.

"Yea I think your easy to talk to as well."

"Thank you, I was brought up well."

 

 

 

We make our way down the park and back to where I left my parents.

 

They're sitting their, looking out of place in Dior and custom made suits.

 

"Did you two move at all?" I ask as I return.

 

"Yes, we got some food and looked at fish."

"Wonderful." I laugh.

 

"Come along my sweet Louis we have to go home, still much preparation for the party tomorrow night. Shall you be joining the festivities tomorrow Harry?"

 

"I have a reason to now."

 

I blush in return.

 

I wait for my parents to leave out of ear shot before I speak.

 

"It seems to me you do no good in hiding your feelings for me Mr. Styles."

"I was never the one to hide anything."

"Not even when it can destroy your life?"

"Honesty is an important thing Lou."

"For it seems like your mother isn't the only wonderful kind hearted Styles around."

"And it seems that maybe your mother isn't the most beautiful Tomlinson in the manor."

He kisses my hand in a swift motion.

 

"I knew that as I soon as I heard your name I was going to have to have you Mr. Tomlinson. I'm going to make you mine."

"We've just met."

"But we've been betrothed since birth."

I smile at him my eyes radiating so muchhappiness I feel like I'm going to scream.

 

 

"So charming Harry."

 

I began to walk away.

 

"Save me a dance at the Christmas party will ya?"

 

I hear him call out.

"If luck be a lady Harry."

 

Its when Im undressing my bed that my mother gives me my birthday gift.

 

"It was your grandmothers. She would've wanted you to have it."

 

I open the neatly wrapped box to see a ring.

 

Its obviously solid gold, a simple band with engraved words imprinted on top.

 

_Forever and always_

 

"Her wedding ring?"

I asked worried.

"Mom this is yours, its meant for you to have it."

 

"I trust it with you more than I do with my own self Louis."

 

She puts it on my finger.

 

My heart melts a little.

 

"I still miss her."

 

 

I suddenly say.

 

"I miss her too."

 

We stare at each other.

 

Identical blue eyes. Identical lips.

 

I lay down the ring still on my finger and my eyes start to drift closed.

 

"Good night my sweet Louis."

 

I hear her say.

 

"May your dreams be as kind as you."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations on making it to the ending of this crazy long chapter. I promise they all wont be like this. My tumblr is @angelica-schuyller feel free to talk to me there. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Ashxx


	3. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys its long again

_December 25, 1957, the day of_

  


I woke up feeling the universe in my veins.

 

I had the stars tangled in my hair.

 

And the planets sprinkled on my tongue.

 

I felt out of this world.

 

Like an alien on a new planet. Witnessing everything for the very first time.

 

This is what he did to me my reader.

 

He transformed me into something beautiful and unearth like.

 

My eyes opened up to the setting around me and everything was bright, brighter than the sun that would explode through my window every morning. It was like everything in my room was new, even my bed didn't feel like my bed, it felt strange.

 

New.

 

Harry was able to give me a new world.

 

And we had only spoken for a day.

 

“Good morning Mr. Louis.”

 

“What does love feel like Mr. James.”

 

I stare at the ceiling.

 

A diamond chandelier hangs above me, sparkling in the light. Around it sits a ceiling entirely made of mirrors.

 

My mother let me put it up for my 16 birthday.

 

“Do you think you're in love?” James asks, he doesn't sound shock.

 

“I think so.” I make no attempt at movement.

 

“Well what do you feel like?”

 

“Like I have an entire universe underneath my skin.”

 

“Well I've never felt that when I was in love. But it is different for everyone.”

 

“What did you feel Mr.James.”

 

“I shouldn't say. It isn't my place to give you advice on love sir.”

 

“Oh James help me!”

 

I sit up at that, urgency in the blues of my eyes and my mouth open in wonder.

 

“You must tell me what exactly is love and what does it feel like, I’m more than curious, I’m almost dying of wonder!”

 

“Now sir-

 

“Don't start with technicalities James.”

 

I'm nervous now.

 

“What do you want me to answer Lou?”

 

“What does love feel like if it doesn't feel like being in a new world?”

 

“I can't answer a question that is different for each person Lou.”

 

“Than tell me how it felt for you.”

 

The room is quiet. The sounds of morning birds singing and the lawn mower is going up outside.

 

He speaks.

 

“I felt like nothing could hurt me when I was with her.”

  


“Was that all?” I ask.

 

“I felt protected, and safe, and I know its the mans job to protect his wife but my Sally, was too strong for anyone to protect her, so instead she protected me.”

 

I can see a mixture of passion and past in his eyes and it makes me wonder just how much did he feel safe.

 

“Describe safe.”

 

“Safe like when that police officer pointed that gun at me I didn't flinch.”

 

“And love can make you do that?”

 

“Love can make anything happen.”

 

“Where is Sally now James?”

 

I'm scared to ask.

 

“Her mother got sick so she had to go down to Alabama 4 months ago, don't know when she coming back.”

 

I shiver at that.

 

“And do you feel safe now Mr. James?”

 

“I only feel sad.”

 

He pauses then continues.

 

“Love is a little difficult at times Lou. That one person is difficult. Sally is the only thing that can make me feel safe, yet she can also be the only one that makes me feel alone. Because no one makes me feel the best, and no one makes me feel the worst than her.”

 

“I'm terribly sorry James.”

 

“Don't be, it's worth it to have her.”

 

“I'll protect you until she comes back Mr. James.”

 

“I can't have an alien protecting me!”

 

I laugh.

 

“Am I inlove Mr. James?”

 

“I don't know, are you?’

 

I think of Harry.

 

The way his eyes turn from forest green to emerald in the light. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was embarrassed. His laugh. He always looked stressed yet he was as cool as the wind itself.

 

His lips.

 

Thin yet comforting. I wanted to kiss them the moment he told me I was pretty.

 

I thought he was pretty too.

 

I thought he was lovely.

 

That Styles boy.

 

He would be the death of me.

 

I just knew it.

 

“I think I am.”

 

“Than thats all you gots to know when it comes to love.”

 

He stares out the window for just a moment and then is swiftly moving across the room to my closet. Then he continues.

 

“If you feel something, and it feels like love, just go to it, don't stop and think. It will only ruin your heart.”

 

“And what if it's wrong, to love someone your not supposed to love?”

 

Should I tell him?

 

“Love is love Lou, we are lucky to have the opportunity to love.”

 

He knows.

 

“Thank you James. For you’ve managed to make love even more complicated than I thought it was when I opened my eyes not 10 minutes ago.”

 

“Why any time, Lou.”

 

He smiles at me.

 

I smile back.

 

“Now lets see what you shall be wearing for tonight, it's going to be a very big party, and something tells me this boy that is making you love might be there.”

 

“Oh you read me so terribly easy James.”

 

And that was the end of that.

  


“You look lovely Louis.”

 

“Thank you mother.”

 

She fixed my collar with her gloved hand, a diamond bracelet hanging effortlessly from her skinny wrist. She was wearing a red Gucci dress, custom made for her. Her skin olive and her shoulders bare and collarbones exposed.

 

I loved when she wore off the shoulder things.

 

Around her neck laid a diamond necklace, that sparkled so much my eyes hurt.

 

Her lips matched the color of her dress. Her eyes were simple except for a thick black line that started on her lid and went out past the ending of her eyes. It looked a little cat-like.

 

“You look gorgeous mom.”

 

She perked up at that.

 

“Oh thank you my sweet Louis, I was preparing all day!”

 

I nod my head and turn towards the door.

 

My father joins us in less than a minute and together we smile, identical smiles as James opens up the door and I am met with people dressed in elegant clothing as they stare in awe at the Tomlinson Manor.

 

“Welcome.” My mother said.

 

“Merry Christmas and let the party begin!”

  


Rich people are awfully weird when they party.

 

If you can call it that.

 

While the room, decked in gold and bright with light was gorgeous, and the people covered in money and elegance matched greatly with their undying amount of wealth.

 

They were quite boring.

 

Music played softly in the background, it wasn't christmas music but no one cared anyway. While it was good music, no one danced that much.

 

From the ceiling hanged 4 chandeliers, my mother had the workers put them up for the occasion. They were identical to mine, glittering with every movement. That seemed to be the only excitement in the room.

 

The walls were like mine, painted only beige and dressed with paintings of my family and on the back wall at the top stood our family portrait. People would ask about the pictures. That was most of the conversations. The others included topics of work, and new furnishments of everyone's homes.

 

In the corner of the main dining hall stood our christmas tree. It was standing over 15 feet, decorated in gold and white tinsel, gold and white christmas balls, and an angel on the top.

 

My mother didn't like red with green.

 

_Looks to juvenile._

 

She said.

 

I never told her, I loved red and green.

 

She never asked.

 

After numbing conversations with my father's friends, I was left to the hands of my mother. It was her turn to parade me around to her friends. The introduction seemed the exact same though.

 

_Hello ( random name) this is my son Louis._

 

_Oh Johannah he looks just like you!_

 

No I don't.

 

_He’s my love._

 

_So Louis are you going to college for law like your father?_

 

_Of course._

 

I lied.

 

_Thats nice._

 

I was currently with my mothers closest friend, Maura her name was.

 

“ Well it's good to see men still trying to do something with their lives, most of them have dreams of being a performer and what not. It's complete nonsense.”

 

I think of Harry.

 

“You don't agree?” I ask.

 

“Why of course not! We are the superior race after all. Just can't let those negroes gain the upper hand because we aren't working hard enough.”

 

I could feel the anger in me.

 

I could feel my mother tense.

 

“I don't think they are trying to hurt us.” I say.

 

“They aren't, but for some reason they think they should be treated like us. How monstrous.”

 

My mother steps ahead of me, a light smile on her lips.

 

I look at her with my eyes speaking.

 

_How could you let her say that about them._

 

“Louis honey why don't you go get some cake, think I've kept you away from your peers long enough.”

 

What peers?

 

“Ofcourse.”

 

I walk away fuming.

 

This was the life everyone wanted?

 

It couldn't be.

 

The glamourous life of gold and noble name, the “relax all day and party all night” life so many wanted. Full of fortune and bliss. Nothing but pure Hollywood.

 

Oh please.

 

Seemed like a lonely life of cold gold and fake smiles with nothing but ignorance to match to me.

 

I came to the certain realization that we always want what we can't have. It seems we are never capable of seeing the good in what we have. Always wanting more.

 

I stare at the glasses full of wine on the gold linen table cloths. The white china plates hand painted by artists and the white roses littering around them.

 

I'll always be unsatisfied.

 

As long as I'm here.

 

“Hello Louis.”

 

But for now.

 

I think I can find a way to help.

 

“Harry.”

 

I do no effort to hide the excitement and happiness in my voice as I turn to see him standing there.

 

He isn't dressed in his Disneyland uniform.

 

And now I'm able to see the money on him.

 

He isn't wearing a suit jacket but he is wearing a plaid vest, the colors matching those of the Christmas colors. Underneath is a white button up pressed so perfectly there isn't even a thought a wrinkle could form. He has a hunter green tie perfectly matching. Dark khaki pants. I didn't get to his shoes.

I was lucky I was able to continue to stand. He looked so perfect I almost passed out.

 

“Nice to make your acquaintance again.”

 

“Is that all we are Styles? Acquaintances?”

 

I give him a playful smile.

 

The one my mother taught me how to do.

 

“I suppose so, after all it's only been a day.”

 

“Well acquaintances don't dance, it isn't normal. So I'm afraid our certain plans will have to be put on hold for another time when we are further, familiar with each other.”

 

“No that won't be necessary.”

 

He shaking his head again smiling.

 

Just like the first time.

 

“For it seems that we are both neither normal but both peculiar therefore we should not follow the rules of the less enticing.”

 

“The less enticing? I like that.”

 

We move towards the back of the room as we talk. Blending into the background, invisible to the attention of the party and the glamorous people that make it up.

 

“Thank you. Ive thought about how to describe us. I've been thinking about it ever since our departure from yesterday. Been thinking about _you_ since our departure from yesterday.”

 

I blush hard at that.

 

“Well fortunately for you I haven't been able to remove your nature from my thoughts as well. You're quite exciting. Mr. Styles.”

 

I decided to leave out the fact that I might be in love with him, or the fact that I feel like a new person because of him.

 

It might be for the best.

  


“Fourntate for me indeed.”

 

We stare at eachother, secrets being exchanged through our eyes and unsaid sentences on our lips.

 

I want to kiss him so bad it hurts.

  


“How are you enjoying the party Louis?”

 

I can't help but to roll my eyes. And fake excitement.

 

“Why it's the most lovely party of all time! Extravagantly wonderful and delightful beyond my wildest dreams! I say I never want this night to end!”

 

Im half way through my monologue when Harry is laughing, hands on his stomach and eyes closed.

 

“Alright, alright I get it.”

 

“Thank you for understanding.”

 

We watch over the crowds.

 

“Yea, I suppose it is quite dry, and a little boring if I do add.”

 

“Boring isn't even the end of it Harry. Its horrible, these people are horrible.”

 

“A party among fools Louis?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

He smiles at that.

 

We continue to talk, I tell him about Maura and what she said.

 

“Why Louis, don't you know? We are the superior race, so smart and brave. Heros we are and it's up to us to keep them in line.”

 

I scoff.

 

“Unbelievably right? If anything she proves just how stupid we could be.”

 

“She doesn't understand. A Lot of people here don't.”

 

“And I suppose you and your family do?”

 

I cork my eyebrow up.

 

“My mother and father’s thoughts don't dictate mine Louis, just like yours dont with you.”

 

“Good answer.”

 

The night slowly begins to whine down, rooms become empty. I stay with Harry for most of the night though we are careful to not be seen by anyone. It was my idea.

 

I wanted to sneak around.

 

Have that romantic idea in my head be put into reality. Harry didn't care. He went along with it anyway.

 

Its around midnight when he speaks to me about the dance.

 

“You promised me a dance Lou.”

 

“I said if you were lucky, we would dance.”

 

“Well am I?”

 

I stare at the gold drapes of the left wing hall. We can still hear the music, it's echoing through the grand halls and while it sounds a little hazy, I can hear it perfectly.

 

“I suppose you are, you're rich, good looking, noble name, and intelligent. Not to mention you are white.”

 

Its his turn to scoff.

 

“Youre as lucky as they come Harry Styles. Ill tell you that.”

 

“If I was really as lucky as you say I am, you'd be in my arms by now.”

 

I turn around and he’s standing close. So close we are breathing the same air. I can see the tiny freckle on his chin and I can smell the cologne on him.

 

Oh god how I wanted him.

 

“Will you dance with me Mr. Tomlinson.?”

 

His voice changes. So low, so deep, it makes my knees shake.

 

“Why I’d be delighted to.”

 

I stare at his lips as I speak.

 

Harry slowly, almost cautiously brings his hands up to my waist. The other slides into my hand. His long fingers wrapping delicately around mine.

 

We were so perfect we even fit together perfectly.

 

I step closer- if it was even possible. And my free hand goes to his shoulder.

 

We start to rock. Gently side to side, occasionally moving but not much. And while Harry is taller than me he still manages to look me in the eye. It's quiet between us, yet we are saying everything we want with our bodys. It's so slow, yet so powerful.

 

I'm in a dream.

 

I just know it.

 

The music goes long forgotten as we continue to move at the same pace, ignorant to the world around us and that's when I feel it again.

 

The universe beneath my skin growing.

 

Another planet being added to my tongue.

 

Galaxies are forming in my lungs, and they are absolutely gorgeous.

 

But I can’t breathe.

 

“I've enjoyed this night with you Louis.”

 

Is what Harry says after a few minutes of silence.

 

“Not as much as I enjoyed it with you Mr. Styles.”

 

I lay my head against his chest and close my eyes. Hes soft, yet strong. He smells of peppermints and Dior.

 

“I think Im inlove with you.” Harry says silently and I want to burst open with happiness.

 

“I'm so very happy you said that because I think Im inlove with you Harry.”

 

I lift up too quickly and the back of my head connects with his chin in a hard bump.

 

“OUCH DAMN” Harry spits and I step away quickly panic rising in my throat.

 

“OH MY GOODNESS I'M SO SORRY I JUST MOVED TO FAST OH GOD I'VE RUINED EVERYTHING-

 

“No Louis you’ve ruined nothing.”

 

He shaking his head excessively when I'm half way through apologizing a smile on his lips.

 

“You can never ruin anything.”

 

We stare at eachother, wonder entwined in our eyes.

 

“I'm a mess.” I say.

 

“You are absolutely perfect.”

 

Is all Harry says.

 

“I am in love with you. You have made me see this world in a completely new lens. It feels like I have a galaxy in my lungs Harry. Youve given me a galaxy.”

 

I quickly say.

  


Harry smiles. His eyes wide open and he looks so happy, my heart swells.

 

“Louis I feel the same. Though I'm not good with words so I can't really explain it like you. But I understand. It just feels _right._ ”

 

I'm shaking my head excessively as he speaks.

 

“Yes.”

 

Is all I say.

 

“Yes.”

 

Is all he says.

 

And then we stare some more.

 

It feels like moments pass by before he speaks again.

 

“Can I take you somewhere Louis?”

 

“Where?”

 

“Some place lovely.”

 

I bite my lip. It's late, I really shouldn't be out of the house, but I'm sure my parents will understand.”

 

“Ok.”

 

He slips his hand into mine and we make our way to the door.

 

On the way out we pass by the party and I see my parents dancing together.

 

“Wait, let me tell them I'm leaving out.” I slip my hand away to go inside the room.

 

“There's no need for that Louis, it will only be for a second.”

 

I bite my lip again staring at my parents.

 

“Theyre so concentrated on each other, let them be my love.”

 

_My love._

 

“Alright, if it's just for a moment.”

 

He shakes his head.

  


I look at my parents.

 

They are smiling, actual smiles. Both dressed in red and golds, looking like old money and class. They're looking into eachothers eyes and for the first time in a long time, I see the love they have for eachother.

 

I want that love.

 

I think I have that love.

 

With Harry.

 

Who is waiting.

 

So, I take one last long look at my parents, at my mom.

 

And then I slip away.

 

“You know this area Harry?”

 

I ask as he takes my hand in his.

 

“I've been down here a few times before.”

 

`”And you’ve made no attempt to see me, how rude!”

 

“If I knew you were here Lou, I would have rescued you a long time ago.”

 

“Rescue?”

 

“Yes.”

 

We make our way down a path behind my home.

 

Its full of large trees and grass growing out of control. I can't see, it's much too dark. I began to panic but then Harry squeezes my hand.

 

I relax again.

 

Its numb movements, the way we walk. A silence takes over us and though it feels comfortable..

 

It feels _wrong_.

 

I push these thoughts away. And we continue to move. Behind black shadows of the christmas night.

 

“We’re here.”

 

It was a lake. A blue ora drifts over the setting, and I can see the silver light of the moon, dancing on the water. There are no sounds but the small ripples of water being pushed lightly by the wind. You can hear crickets singing, and hums from the trees. Their leafs and branches sway again the December air.

 

It’s just so blue.

 

“Oh how pretty!”

 

I let go of his hand and run towards the water.

 

“Harry look at this!”

 

He chuckles lightly but doesn't move.

 

“I've never seen someone get excited over water before.”

 

“I've never really left my house that much ever since my grandmother died, can you blame me for being in awe for finding another piece of the world? Behind my own home!?”

 

“Your grandmother died?”

 

_Oh._

 

I forgot about that.

 

“Yes, about 9 years ago. I was very close to her.”

 

“Im very sorry.”

 

Harry says quietly.

 

“You know sometimes I wonder about her.”

 

I say before I can stop myself.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

 _Pause_.

 

“Where she went.”

 

“She went to heaven.”

 

Is what Harry said.

 

“Is that the better place?”

 

“That's the best place of all.”

 

He moves closer.

 

“I don't think so.”

 

He stops.

 

“No?”

 

“The best place is here with me.”

 

“Don't be so complacent.”

 

I didn't notice how his voice changed.

 

I didn't notice at all my reader.

 

I was too busy staring at the water to notice.

It was so calm, so peaceful. So breathtaking.

 

 _Breathtaking_.

 

“No not like that, she always told me. My grandmother. Always told me that her place was right beside me, and out of all the places we’ve been, it was with me, home. This was her best place.”

 

Harry begins to walk again.

 

But I continue.

 

“What's so good about heaven anyway? How is it the better place when all it seems to do is store people away from their families.”

 

“Don't say that Lou, heaven is lovely. And one day we are all going to be there.”

 

“Have you ever been to heaven Harry?”

 

He’s behind me now. Pressed against my back, I can feel his heat and the shape of his body and I relax into it. I let my head fall back on his chest, let his arms wrap around me.

 

“No. But I’ve seen an angel.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Here. Underneath this moon and standing on the side of this lake.”

 

“Was she lovely?”

 

“Why he was the most beautiful creature in the world.”

 

“What did the angel say?”

 

“That this life is more than gold and money.”

 

“I agree with him.”

 

He laughs and it vibrates my body.

 

I smile at that.

 

“Is that angel me Harry?”

 

“Why of course.”

 

“I'm not an angel Harry.”

 

“Yes you are, you're smart and kind and you're too good for this world, too pure.”

 

“So are you.”

 

“I'm not pure, I'm not kind or smart either.”

 

“I think you are.”

 

I look up at the sky and see the drunk stars hanging loosely on the night. I see the moon and how it takes up most of the sky.

 

“Harry.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I want to leave.”

 

“I'll take you far away Lou.”

 

I feel him swallow.

 

“As long as I'm with you I'll be fine.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Harry says.

 

“I love you.”

I say.

 

I feel his lips press against my left temple for a swift moment.

  


“Close your eyes Louis.”

 

Harrys arms tighten around me.

 

I think of James and what he said to me this morning.

  


_If you feel something, and it feels like love, just go to it, don't stop and think. It will only ruin your heart._

 

_Just go to it._

 

And so I do.

 

And I close my eyes.

  
They find my body 4 days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats on making it through another long ass chapter


	4. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any errors. Enjoy  
> Ashxx

_ December 26, 1957 the day after _

 

I opened my eyes.

 

And for a second it felt like every other morning. Tucked away in my bed with my blankets around me, and James’s voice gently waking me up as he lets the sunlight through.

 

But it wasn't.

 

It was the complete opposite.

 

It was pain.

 

So much pain.

 

So I scream.

 

Its loud and hoarse and it almost sounds like an echo in my body. I wake gasping for air. An empty shell of skin and bones began to rattle. A hollow case that once held my soul and flaws now shake with fear.

 

Where is my body?

 

I'm running through the halls of the manor. I keep looking back, trying to escape this dark shadow that is coming for me.

 

He wants to hurt me.

 

Who is he?

 

I scream again.

 

“PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!” 

 

The shadow appears.

 

_ I'm trying to help you my love. _

 

_ My love _

 

“HARRY? HARRY HELP ME!”

 

The shadow continues to grow, sharp teeth and claws forming.

 

My heart drops.

 

I began to run again.

 

I make my way to the dining hall, breathing like wild waves as the shadow begins to swallow up everything around me.

 

But when I get to the christmas party.

 

Its empty. 

 

“MOM? DAD? HARRY? ANYONE?” My voice echos in the extravagant room and it feels uncomfortable.

 

I hear crying.

 

“Mom?”

 

I look to the corner to see my mother, still in her red dress crying over a couch.

 

“Mother!” I run to her.

 

“Mom we have to leave, there's someone trying to hurt us! We have to go now!”

 

She doesn't move.

 

“Mom?”

 

A sob erupts in her body, shaking her violently and I step back in fear.

 

“Mom.”

 

I can feel a tear running down my face.

 

“Louis!” 

 

She screamed.

 

“Don't worry my sweet Louis,

I'm going to find you _.” _

  
  


“I'm right here.”

 

She doesn't move. She doesn't even look at me.

 

Everything sounds underwater and suddenly I can't breathe.

 

The shadow.

 

He’s here.

 

“Mother get up we have to go!”

 

I can see the black clouds filling in the room.

 

“Mom!”

 

“Where are you?”

 

She whispers.

 

“I'M RIGHT HERE!”

 

I turn to see the shadow.

 

But it's no longer a shadow.

 

But instead a tall hairy black beast. His claws have grown into sharp nails and his voice is as cold and deep as ice.

 

_ I'm trying to help you. _

 

“You're trying to hurt me!”

 

I take a step back and stand in front of my sobbing mother, my shoe crushing the ends of her red dress.

 

I stare at the beast once more.

 

His jaw has formed now, it's as sharp as a knife and his chest and shoulders stand broad and thick. His lips, disguised under the fur yet I can see the red fangs perfectly.

 

“You're a monster.”

 

_ I am the only thing that loves you with passion of the sun. _

 

His eyes, that were once the color of blood have turned green.

 

A forest green.

 

“Harry?”

 

I croak.

 

_ You're smart and kind and you're too good for this world, too pure. _

 

It is Harry.

 

No.

 

“You stay away from me!”

 

I see the lake.

 

He takes a step closer.

 

_ I love you too much my love. _

 

I see the moon.

 

“Please don't.”

 

I see the pink and blue clouds of the cotton candy from Disneyland.

 

“Harry please.”

 

I see my mother, and her red dress.

 

_ Louis. _

 

But she is no longer behind me. 

 

She is gone.

 

And I am left alone with my monster.

 

My love.

 

“Please.” I whisper. 

 

And I feel one more tear on my cheek before I hear him say.

 

_ It’s already been done. _

  
  


I'm back at the lake again.

 

Still dressed in my red suit from the christmas party.

 

My throat hurts.

 

But I ignore it.

 

I look around and come to terms with the fact that the lake looks identical to the night before. 

 

With Harry.

 

I shiver.

 

But I'm not cold.

 

“Hello.”

 

I look away from the glowing blue water and turn to see a boy.

 

He’s dressed in jeans and a striped tee shirt. 

 

His hair is styled similar to Harry's. His eyes brown, the color of whiskey and amber combined. His lips are pink, eyebrows thick and on his neck sits a mole.

 

“Who are you?” I ask, voice hoarse.

 

“Why, that's no greeting at all!” He smiles.

 

I close my eyes, trying to contain the anger and confusion I feel drowning my thoughts.

 

“My apologies. Good evening.”

 

“Im sure you have many questions and I will get to them soon.”

 

He begins to walk towards the manor. 

 

I take one long look at the blue lake.

 

And then I follow.

 

“Are you taking me home?”

 

I stumble to keep up.

 

“Nah I can't take ya home.” The boy answers.

 

His southern accent is deep.

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“I don't really know, but I've been in the same spot since I was educated on your arrival which was 3 days ago and I'm awfully sick of the view. We just have to get away from here.”

 

I say nothing in return.

 

We walk in a silence until we reach the manor. I look at it and I can feel the dead heart in my chest break.

 

Dead.

 

“Am I a ghost?” I finally ask.

 

“No.” The boy answers.

 

“So what am I then?”

 

“You simply on the waiting list.”

 

“The waiting list for what?”

 

“Why to go to heaven of course.”

 

“There's a waiting list?” I stare at my home.

 

The boy notices.

 

“Don't worry, this isn't ya last time here, I have a feeling we are going to be here for a long time.”   
  
“We?”

 

“Im Liam. I'm your warden. I'm here to help you find peace.”

 

“I’ve been murdered, I don't think I’ll ever find peace.”

 

“You will. We just have to bring your killer to justice. And then you'll be ready to go, go and continue ya new life.”

 

“I don't want a new life. I want my old one back.”

 

“Nah I'm afraid we can't get that.”

 

I want to cry.

 

But I don't.

 

“Come.”

 

Liam whips his head away from me and starts to move again.

 

“We have to find your focus.”

 

“Whats a focus?”

 

I began to run after him.

 

“A place you will stay and watch everything from. Kinda like a bedroom, though I think you will be disappointed in whatever we find since it definitely won't reach the accommodations of your previous life.”

 

I scoff at that.

 

“I don't even think the Queens best room will reach those expectations, but I'll be thankful for whatever.”

 

“Good.”

 

We walk in silence. I stare at Liam though I can't see much because of the darkness outside.

 

“Will it always be dark here?”

 

“Yes. You are basically in the exact same time period as your death.”

 

“It's a loop.”

 

“Precicely.”

 

We stop at a tree.

 

“Why this would be perfect!” He claps his hands together.

 

“But it's a tree. Where will I sleep?”

 

“On the grass of course.”

 

I stare in confusion.

 

“You will rarely be here for most of the day anyway.”

 

“Where will I be?”

 

“With your killa.”

 

I flinch.

 

“Why him?”

 

“He was the last thing you seen, he was also the last thing you thought about. You will be able to see anyone you desire really, but for the most part you will center yourself around him. We kinda suffer from abandonment issues in a way.”

 

He rubs the back of his neck.

 

Kind of like Harry.

 

_ Oh. _

 

“And how will I get everyone to know the truth, how will I make everyone know Harry killed me?”

 

Liam sighs and leans against the tree.

 

“Close your eyes Louis.”

 

I shiver.

 

I'm still not cold.

 

“The last time someone told me to close my eyes, I died.”

 

“You have to trust me.”

 

“I don't.”

 

“Why not? Are we not in the same predicament.”

 

“The love of your life murdered you?” I spit.

 

He flinches at that.

 

“Well no-”

 

“Than we do not have the same predicament Liam.”

 

“Just trust me please.”

 

I stare at him.

 

“Please?”

 

“I'm afraid, I can't. I'm sorry.”

 

An awkward silence fills between us.

 

Liam turns around and places his hand on the tree.

 

“Just don't forget this tree.” He says simply.

 

“I won't.”

 

Silence.

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“England, but I was raised here in Los Angeles.”

 

“How exciting!” Liam smiles. 

I shrug.

 

“I always wanted to come to Hollywood, have you ever met Marilyn Monroe?” Liam asks.

 

“Once.”

 

“Wooow.”

 

I turn away from him and look towards the direction of my home. I can see a fuzz of light glowing slightly above the trees, piercing through the night sky.

 

“My mom loves her.”

 

“She looks so glamourous.”

 

“She is.”

 

“Your mother I mean.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Liam claps his hands.

 

“I think we’ve covered the basics, are you ready to go?”

 

“How long will we be like this Liam?”

 

I keep my gaze on the house.

 

My house.

 

“How ever long it takes for you to find peace.”

 

“I don't think that will ever happen Liam.”

 

My heart breaks.

 

I hear Liam talk again.

  
“Then we will be here forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I made Liam a redneck
> 
> Ashxx


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any errors. I hope you enjoy
> 
> Ashxx

_ December 29, 1957 4 days after _

 

“They found him this morning.”

 

“Alive?”

 

“Would I be bringing it to you if they did?”

 

Zayn rubs the back of his neck.

 

“Cause of death?”

 

“We don't know yet, still waiting for the autopsy.”

 

“Where was he found?”

 

“A few miles from his home, in the middle of some woods.”

 

“Ok.”

 

“It's the way we found him Malik.”

 

Niall throws the photos on his desk.

 

The little boy looks peaceful, almost like he’s sleeping. He’s dressed in all white and even has some sort of crown made from tiny purple flowers atop his head. Around him sits flowers and weeds and in his hand is one single white rose. His eyes and mouth are closed. And there's not one visible mark shown. 

 

Zayn picks up the pictures and studies them carefully.

 

“You think the guy regretted it after he did it?”

 

Niall shrugs.

 

“Why else would he dress him up like this? Parents said he was dressed in a red suit when they last saw him.”

 

“Sick joke?”

 

“I don't think so. What's the joke of dressing him up like some princess with a whole bunch of flowers around him. This looks like it was to give the boy a resting place.”

 

Zayn takes out a cigarette and lights it up.

 

“You want me on this don't you?” He blows the smoke out.

 

“His father wants the best of the best.”

 

Zayn looks at him.

 

“Didn't tell him the best was unavailable.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Grab your coat. Let's go.”

 

Zayn heard of the Tomlinson family before. A bunch of rich snobs with nothing really good to offer the world. But maybe he disliked them so much because he wasn't so fortunate to have obtained that kind of life. He’s been broke since he could remember. Barely made it through college, surviving on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while his mom worked overnight and morning shifts to get him through. But even though Zayn saw some stuck up old money family that wouldn't bat their eye for the murder of someone like him, he still had to admit.

 

No one deserved this.

 

The death of their own child. It was wrong. No one deserved to be told that their only child was found dead alone in the middle of some trees and grass, only miles away from their own home.

 

Louis was supposed to be safe.

 

What happened?

 

When the two detectives arrived on scene they are greeted by flashing cameras and the forensic scientist.

 

“What you got Carl?”

 

“The place is clean, got no evidence here. My guess is that this is the secondary crime scene, the murder did not take place here. It couldn't have.”

 

Zayn stays quiet.

 

“And the boy?”

 

“He’s clean to. Though I did notice something in his hand, hair fibers. From his killer maybe? They're much too long to be his. I also see no kind of struggle from the boy. Not one bruise that indicates he was putting up much of a fight.”

 

“Now what does that mean?”

 

“Two possible theories: his back was turned when he was knocked out, or he knew the guy.”

 

Zayn looks towards the woods. He can see the giant Tomlinson manor even though the distance.

 

“There was party that night right?”

 

“Yes”. Says Niall and he follows him over to the edge. “A Lot of people were there, I’m guessing over two hundred.”

 

“Two hundred?” Zayn sounds shocked.

 

“It's the Tomlinsons Zayn. We all know they threw the most lavishes parties. Wouldn't be surprised if it was closer to three hundred folks there.”

 

Zayn shakes his head.

 

“And they didn't think once to check on their own son?”

 

“Stuff like this doesn't happen to them.”

 

Zayn sighs.

 

Poor kid.

 

“Well it had to be someone from that damn party. I'm gonna need a list of everyone who attended, and someone get me that autopsy report.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

Niall sounds curious.

 

“Talk to his parents.”   
  


His father is a lawyer, maybe someone wanted revenge on him and got it through his kid. 

 

“Be careful, they're a little out of it, especially his mom, poor thing.”

 

Zayn ignores him.

 

Instead he makes his way to the Tomlinson Manor.

 

“I'm sorry for your lost sir.”

 

Silence.

 

More silence.

 

And silence again.

 

Zayn clears his throat and flips open his notepad as he writes the first thing down:

 

_ Daniel Tomlinson _

 

He stares at the man some more.

 

“Was Louis acting weird the morning before...all this happened.?” He doesn't know how asks these questions. This isn't his first murder case no. But it is his first murder case of a child. He never really had to deal with parents that were this young. 

 

That were this heartbroken.   
  
Mr. Tomlinson looks away from the window and stands up. He begins to walk towards the fireplace that houses a dozen or so pictures of the family.

 

“Not that I can remember no. He was normal. Actually above normal he was happy. Very giggly and excited. Like he was the king of the world.”

 

He reaches for a picture of his son. Staring at it with a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips.

 

“Did you know why he was so happy?” Zayn asks.

 

“Not really. My guess was that he was in a good mood. It was the day after his birthday you know. Plus it was christmas. His mother gave him the best gift he could have ever wanted. He was just so _ happy.” _

 

Tomlinson closes his eyes almost to stop himself from breaking down.

 

“Gift?” Zayn looks up.

 

“An heirloom you could call it. His grandmother’s wedding ring. It was his mothers at first but she gave it Louis shortly before…” 

 

He doesn't finish. But only shakes his head.

 

“Do you know if Louis had it on that night?” Zayn writes in his notebook.

 

_ Ring. _

 

“I think he did yes. Said he was never taking it off.” The father walks back to the couch with the picture still in his hand. “Why he didn't have it when he was...found?”

 

“No I don't think so.”

 

He can see another layer of pain growing in Tomlinson’s eyes so he quickly speaks again.

 

“At Least to my knowledge. They probably didn't tell me.”

 

Silence.

 

So Zayn continues.

 

“Uhh Mr. Tomlinson, do you have any enemies? People that might to want to hurt you and your family maybe?”

 

The man thinks for a moment. Staring at the picture while the gears in his brain began to move. Then he spits out a venomous laugh.

 

“I'm a lawyer detective Malik. So many people want to see me dead I’d have to make a list.”

 

The detective flinches at that.

 

“Anyones that stick out in your mind greatly? Ones that have the ability to get into your house through the party or something like that?” Zayn writes another note down.

 

_ Hated greatly. _

 

“No, we had a list for the party, and anyone whose name wasn't on it couldn't come in.” He pauses. “Though this is a big house, they might have found a way in. But I just can't imagine them taking Louis without anyone hearing. I can't imagine he would just let them.”

 

“So you're saying Louis had to know them?”

 

“Im most sure of it.” He answers.

 

So Zayn writes that down too.

 

_ Had to know the killer. _

 

“Did Louis have any friends?”

 

His father is staring at the picture again.

 

“No, he wasnt very social. At Least to my knowledge.”

 

“No school friends?”

 

“He was homeschooled.”   
  


“Friends from the neighborhood.?”   
  


“There are no other kids here.”

 

“Absolutely no one?” Zayn couldn't believe it. How could they raise him on his own without one single companion? It was like he was isolated.

 

He was isolated.

 

“Why I don't know. You would have to speak to James or the maids for that. They were the closest to him.”

 

His best friends were maids.

 

Jesus christ.

 

Zayn writes down into his notebook:

 

_ The help _

 

“I'm going to need a list of those people that want to hurt you Mr. Tomlinson. Im also going to need to see your wife.” Zayn closes the notebook.

 

“That won't do.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“She's gone.”

 

Zayn stops. “What do you mean gone?”

 

“She’s not here. Doctor told me she is suffering from post traumatic shock.”

 

“Where is she?”

 

“I put here in a hotel this morning. When they told us they found Louis’s body, she began to trash the place. I didn't know what else to do.”

 

“Were they close?”

 

“No.” Tomlinson laughs again.

 

Zayn just stares.

 

“I need to speak to her. What hotel is she staying at?”

 

“The Beverly Hills Hotel.”

 

Zayn writes it down.

 

_ Of course _ . He thinks.

 

Once he’s done he closes the notebook again and looks up. “Anything else you want to tell me sir?” He asks, eyebrows corked up.

 

The man sighs, eyes still trained on the picture.

 

“We never spoke that much him and me. But you have to believe me, I loved him very much. More than my own life.” He stops and stands and begins to walk towards Zayn, eyes never leaving the photo.

 

“If I could, I’d trade his life for mine. He was kind, harmless. He didn't even really want the money.” He laughs. “He said he just wanted my love. He had it, I just didn't show it.” He hands Zayn the picture gently.

 

Zayn sees a black and white photo of a small skinny child in a wagon, eyes bright and a huge toothy smile on his face with a few teeth missing. He smiles at that. But then he hears Tomlinson speak.

 

“He was such a good boy.”

 

Zayn clutches the picture tight at that. So tight his knuckles turn white.

 

He looked like a good boy.

 

“Find that bastard. Find the man who took him. He didn't deserve this but he does deserve justice. He was love. Find the person who killed him in hate.”

 

Zayn hears a sniffle.

 

_ He was love. _

 

“Please, find the man who took my baby.”

 

Zayn doesn't let go of the picture.

  
“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol wheres Harry guys


	6. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling errors and what not.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Ashxx

_ December 30, 1957 5 days after _

  
  


“Will he know I'm there?”

 

I ask, and my breath is a little shaky. I've been avoiding going to meet my murderer for a few days now. 

 

But Liam is done with waiting.

 

“No, no one will. Its as if you're nonexistent. You  _ are _ nonexistent.” Liam tells me.

 

And I know it's meant to make me feel better, but I can't help but to flinch at the harshness of it.

 

I don't exist anymore.

 

Not really no.

 

“What's the point of this?” I ask defeatedly. “Why do I have to follow around the person that killed me?”   
  


“That's just the rules my friend.”   
  
“These rules are quite ridiculous and very rude indeed. A person dies and they can't even get the peace they deserve. Preposterous.”   
  
“You will get the peace you beg for I promise, but you must bring him to justice in order for this to happen.” 

 

“Well how can I do that? You said it yourself I’m nonexistent.”

 

“I don't really know how you can do this, I was never educated on that part.”

 

“This world was obviously not thought through good.”   
  


“I agree with you on that Louis.”

 

I stare at the trees above me. My mind growing into wild storms as I try to wrap reality and sense into a world that lacks both greatly.

 

“This can't be real. This must be some horrible dream and any second I will wake up in my bed, on the day of my birthday. This just can't be happening.” I began to feel a lump in my throat.

 

“I'm sorry Louis, for I wish this was nothing but a nightmare to wake up from as much as you do.” Liam whispers.

 

“I’m afraid. I'm afraid of him, to see him. That monster.” I want to close my eyes but I can't.

 

I won't.

 

“He cannot hurt you now, for the only man you should fear is God himself here.”

 

I roll my eyes at that.

 

“God controls our lives, he is the one that decides when we will live and when we will die. God has spoken Liam. Its Harry.”

 

“Harry isnt God.”

 

“He was out of this world.” I say. I ignore Liam and instead speak my mind.

 

“Unearth like he was, it was as if he knew everything in the world, and was just too modest to show it. Oh how lovely he was Liam. How strong. He was, like a king.”

 

“But he isn't a king. And he isn't God Louis.”

 

“Maybe not to you.” I tell him.

 

“But to me, he was everything. It took only a day for him to possess every part of my mind. He had given me a whole new body. A new sensation. He brought to me an entire new universe of white and wonder.”   
  


“And then he took it away from you.” Continues Liam.

 

“And I know no one who could do such a thing other than God. Some one so powerful that they are the only thing that can give you everything yet take it all away in the split of a second.”

 

Liam goes quiet.

 

“So maybe he is not God to you Liam, but he is to me.”   
  
“You speak of God so ill fitted, you must be afraid of what he will do to you if he finds out you compare his power and presence to those of a monster.”

 

“I speak of him to truth, and I have never been afraid of anything in my life, he has already done his worst. I have lost everything.”

 

A wind tangles in the nature around us and I feel the empty veins in my body swell.

 

“This may be the end of one thing Louis.” Liam says and his voice becomes distant to me.

 

“But it is the beginning to another, you will see that Harry is not in fact God, but simply the devil.”

 

His room is red.

 

And I have never seen that before.

 

There's barely any furniture, a bed, a closet and a table and chair. On the table sits piles and piles of papers, pens and a few mugs. The floor is carpet. The color of my walls. But I can't help but to go back to his walls.

 

Blood red.

 

Unheard of.

 

Its loud and distracting. It's to quiet for those walls here and it makes my head hurt. Its as if they're screaming at me, trying to warn me of the body that confines himself within them.

 

_ Do you see us? _

 

They say.

 

_ Who paints their walls this type of red? _

 

_ That boy isn't well. _

 

_ Get away while you can. _

 

_ This isn't very normal indeed. _

 

Too late.

 

He has no pictures on his walls, no decorations, no gold vines like mine, no white vanities, or gold drapes and ceilings made of diamonds and mirrors. 

 

He has nothing in his room.

 

_ Oh Harry _

 

I think.

 

_ Who are you? _

  
  


When I finally adjust myself to the violent noises of the red walls I try to focus on the television sitting in the front of the room. In the center of the screen sits a light skinned man with dark hair and thick brows, the static is strong but I can make out most of what he is saying.

 

It's about me.

 

“It is with a heavy heart that I must confirm we have found the body of Louis Tomlinson in the early hours of Sunday, December 29, 1957. While he did not display any cuts or bruises on the front of his body, he was in fact beaten to death with a blunt object to the back of his head. There were also marks around his neck which conclude that he was also strangled. Louis, son of the district attorney Daniel Tomlinson and wife, Johannah just turned 17 the 24. We as of right now have no strong leads as to who committed the ruthless crime or why, however I must say this: to the monster or monsters that committed this heinous crime, we will find you, no matter how long it takes. I personally swear that I will do whatever it takes to get you and when I do you will regret ever killing that innocent boy-

 

Static, and then it jumps off.

 

And I am left with painful silence, red walls and Harry Styles.

 

He sits on his king sized bed, shirtless. A cigarette in his hand and his eyes identical to a blank page. His hair is a mess and his glasses are nowhere to be found. And even in this state of pure decay.

 

He still looks absolutely stunning.

 

The heart that sits in my chest drops a little as I watch him stand up and move towards the television. He kneels down in front of the black screen and stares at himself through it. He rubs at his face.

 

Drags his hands down his long cheek pulling at the skin as he goes.

 

He pulls at his hair, pale long fingers combing through the dark color.

 

He wraps his hand around his neck and sighs.

 

Then he scream, punching the television as he does.

 

He screams again and picks up the entire machine before flinging it a sharp red wall.

 

The sound is more violent than the walls themselves and I cover my ears to shield them from the horrid music of breaking medal.

 

“DAMMIT” He screams, hands hitting his face.

 

I take a step back, unsure of how to cope with the scene in front of me.

 

He cries.

 

He slides down the wall and cries, shoulders shaking as his sobs escape the open parts of his arms where his head sits.

 

Silence.

 

I stare at him. I watch the way his body freezes in a fetal position and hear the way he breathes like ocean waves.

 

_ Harry. _

 

I say.

 

As if on cue he sits up, eyes and face red from his melt down, his nose is bleeding from how hard he hit himself in the face, but I don't mind.

 

He still looks stunning.

 

I feel sick at that.

 

He opens up his hand to reveal a glimmer of gold.

 

_ My ring. _

 

I instantly reach for it on my wedding finger but it is in fact not there. When I realize that I go cold.

 

I shiver. 

 

It feels like I’m back at the lake that night.

 

Except this time, I know what's going to happen.

 

_ Give that back. _

 

I whisper, tears beginning to fall down my face.

 

He stares at it, tears running down his face as well.

 

“Louis.”   
  


_ Don't say my name. Give me that ring back.  _

 

I began to walk towards him, anger over clouding my fear.

 

“They don't understand. No one understands.”

 

_ YOU GIVE ME THAT BACK! IT ISN'T YOURS!  _

I start to scream, tears quickly falling.

 

“They think I’m a monster. I'm not, and I know you would believe me.”   
  


_ GIMME IT BACK _ .

 

I run towards him until I fall back, almost like I hit a wall. Then the scenery around me ripples like water, shaking and throbbing violently until it fades away back into before.

 

I cry even harder then.

 

_ You took everything. Don't take this as well. _

Im begging now.

 

“They are going to see.” He stands up, reaching to grab a white shirt. “They are going to see that I did this because I loved you. I couldn't let them take you Lou, they are going to realize that.” He puts the ring inside of his jacket pocket.

 

“I'm going to prove to them I was the only one that loved you.”

  
He shuts the door and I am left to the red walls, a broken television and a missing ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry needs to take a chill pill guys.  
> Thanks for readingxx


	7. 6

 

_ December 30, 1957 5 days after _

 

Zayn knocks on the hotel door. A light scratch and then 3 taps. He was following the orders Mr. Tomlinson gave to him about meeting Louis’s mother. She doesn't like sudden noises and movements. So be sure to scratch before you fully knock. Leave a few beats of silence between each knock and don't let them be too loud.

 

She has sensitive ears.

 

Ever since the two realized Louis was missing at the end of the christmas party, she hasn't been the same. Not that the disappearance of your child isn't supposed to change you, it just  _ changed _ her greatly.

 

Zayn heard a lot of rumors about Johannah Tomlinson. She was born to a middle class family. Been doing pageants until she reached the age of 18 and then she met Mr. Tomlinson. The two dated for about 6 months then they were married and moved to America in hopes to fulfill Johnannahs dreams of becoming an actress. They then realized Johannah was pregnant and while she still could be an actress, the Tomlinson family, made of nothing but traditional values and ideas felt that Johannah was meant to be nothing but a housewife and mother for her child. So she put aside her dreams and had a beautiful baby boy who she named Louis. No one understood why she chose that name, not even Daniel. She didn't give anyone a real answer, she never would.

 

But those weren't the rumors about Johannah Tomlinson that Zayn heard of no. Those were the truths told by Daniel when he was explaining to Zayn about his wife's new found peculiarities since the death of her only child.

 

No the rumors Zayn had heard was that Johannah was wrong. She was corrupt. Some type of new generation woman who thought differently from the rest.

 

_ She had a way of doing things, she thought differently than everyone else.  _

 

Her husband said with a light gleam in his eye.

 

_ Its as if she was born in the wrong time period. She was ahead of this time Detective Malik, she still is. She’s just a little broken. _

 

_ A little broken. _

 

Apparently Mrs. Tomlinson thought being a housewife was stupid. It was too boring and she often would find herself questioning everything that was known to be “traditional family values” in the Tomlinson household.

 

_ Why should I be the one to stay home and watch Louis while you are out making a name for yourself? He is my son yes, my heart forever, but he is also your son and if you can prove your devoted love to him while pursuing your dreams, I think I'm perfectly capable of doing the same! _

 

Zayn chuckles at that.

 

That would be the tip of the iceberg when talking about Mrs. Tomlinson's opinions on how the world worked for her. She nearly disagreed with anything and everything and though it was Mr. Tomlinson who was the lawyer, it was Mrs. Tomlinson who always had a plan, an idea. 

 

A completely new way of seeing things.

 

_ She is strong, and smart. And she doesn't care what people would say about her for she knew the only people whose opinion really mattered was her sons, her mothers, and her husbands. _

 

Her son was just murdered.

 

Her mother had been dead for 9 years.

 

And her husband seemed to be sulking in the shadows.

 

So in reality.

 

Johannah had no one.

 

Maybe she realized this when they told her they found her little boy tied up in flowers and roses a few miles from his bedroom. Maybe she realized that she was now left alone to defend herself in a world where all guns were pointed at her to do the right thing even though the right thing was far from being right.

 

She truly was alone.

 

And maybe that's why she flung a vase full of flowers at a mirror taking up an entire wall.

 

Or maybe that was the reason she threw a chair and flipped over a table. Destroyed her vanity and ripped up all her dresses and even tore her pearls and watch them scatter the floor while she threw another vase.

 

She not only lost her family.

 

But she lost her war as well.

 

The war of bringing a new idea, a new life to the next generation. She had no one to defend it with her. Though she rarely spoke to Louis, she knew the boy was like her.

 

Ready to challenge history.

 

Ready to change it.

 

But he would never get that chance to change it.

 

And she would never see him change it.

 

She would never see him at all again.

 

So those were the rumors Zayn heard of Mrs. Tomlinson, and those were the things on his mind when he was at her hotel room.

 

Scratch.

 

Pause.

Knock.

Pause.

Knock.

Pause.

Knock.

 

He took a step back, clutching his notepad tightly and lifting his chin up. He had a press meeting late in the afternoon to confirm the finding of Louis’s body, but he really needed to talk to Mrs. Tomlinson first. They had run into a cold dead end and they were desperate for some kind of clue and maybe Johannah Tomlinson had something. He was quite sure she didn't though, considering the fact that these parents were as distant from this kid a the state of New York to the city of London.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the opening of the pale pink door.

 

He doesn't see anything except the ends of brown hair hitting the door before disappearing behind it. He walks in.

 

He’s meet when a trashed hotel room.

 

Lamps are broken with glass on the floor. The bed looks a mess and there isn't anything on it, not even a sheet. There are empty bottles littering the floor and Zayn can smell the scotch even before he sees the bottle. Pictures lay scattered on the floor the hum of the television in the background and clouds of smoke pumping in the air.

 

_ Jesus _ , thinks Zayn.

 

She really is crazy.

 

And there sits Mrs. Tomlinson.

 

Drape in yet another red dress, her lips matching perfectly as usual, and while she looks pretty from afar you can see the rust, the pain and the tiredness on her delicately crafted face.

 

Who knows if she really even slept in the bed or only destroyed it.

 

Zayn chooses not to ask.

 

“Mrs. Tomlinson?” He says light, cautiously approaching her while she stares straight into a cracked white wall. “My name is Zayn Malik, detective Malik, I'm here to ask you some questions about Louis...if that's fine with you.” He adds that last part and starts to move closer to her but then he was stopped and snapped from his cautious plan.

 

“Was my son acting weird the day he was killed? No, he wasnt he was simply fine. Do I have anyone that would want to see me hurt or try to hurt my family? No I don't talk to anyone that much. Did I notice any strange figure during that party? Why of course not this Hollywood there are no such things as strangers Dectective Malik, only new friends who are there to benefit themselves, and I don't know how killing my child benefited them because I am not them, so if you're trying to obtain a carefully case breaking detail on the disappearance and murder of my son you're both in the wrong place and speaking to the wrong person. I refuse to waste my time wasting away while you scribble tiny notes for yourself in a too small notebook while that beast wonders around my city with my sons blood on his hands.” She stands up. Spine straight chin tilted to the sky.

 

“Find him detective. Or I'll do it myself.”   
  


It is not weak, it isn't broken, it isn't even scary.

 

It's just powerful. 

 

Zayn stares at her his mouth open and eyes wide.

 

“You have nothing, don't you.” It isn't so much of a question, more of a statement and Zayn finds himself blushing and lowering his head.

 

Mrs. Tomlinson turns away from him and begins to stare out the window. Blues eyes filling up with invisible oceans of sadness as she recalls the way her son spoke about the sky.

 

“You know, Louis always use to say the sky holds much more than we think it does. It's just that we don't see it because we overlook it, thinking we know what's there already. We blind ourselves to the complete truth and fact of it. Is that what you've done Mr. Malik? Have you felt you've found every possible thing and now you have no ideas or leads simply because there is truly nothing there? Or has your mind made a fool of you and covered your eyes to what's there?” She spits, venom in her voice and poison in her eyes.

 

Zayn takes a step back at that.

 

He wants to tell the truth.

 

Though he feels embarrassed if he did. So he just stays in between.

 

“I don't know Mrs. Tomlinson, I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for. This case, its very hard. I have no physical evidence.”

 

He shakes his head and looks down.

 

“So stop using physical evidence, and start using your head detective Malik. “ She turns away from him and Zayn could only guess that means their conversation is over. 

 

“Thank you for your time Mrs. Tomlinson, and I'm sorry about your lost.” The detective says dryly and while he wouldn't treat anyone who lost their kids like this, he isn't afraid when it comes to Mrs. Tomlinson for he knows that she wouldn't be fazed by it.

 

“I'm sorry too.” She simply says.

 

He closes the door and goes back to the precinct.

 

_ Use your head. _

 

What could that possibly mean?

 

Zayn graduated top of his class in college.

 

He was always using his head.

 

Mrs. Tomlinson had no idea what she was talking about.

 

RIght?

 

“Oh just ignore her.” Said Niall after Zayn told her the story. “She's a bag of nuts and bolts after we told her her son died. She probably doesn't know what she’s even saying. You're doing the best you can. But it's hard, this isn't even the real crime scene!” Niall gestures towards the pictures on the tables.

 

“We have no evidence as to who this guy could even be. We are using our heads.”

 

Zayn stays quiet and stares at the pictures.

 

He must be missing something. Mrs. Tomlinson is right. 

 

Louis lays in the center of nearly all the pictures. Peaceful looking, calm. He looks like a prince with a crown atop his head covered in roses and tiny purple flowers.

 

Wait a second.

 

“Hey Niall.” Zayn picks up the photos and stares closely.

 

“What?”

 

“You still know that gardener that moved here a few weeks ago?”

 

“Yea why?”

 

“Call her over.”

 

She takes one look at the photo and then talks.

 

“They are  Lobularia maritima also known as sweet alyssums.” She squints her eyes at the picture as she speaks. 

 

“Do they usually grow in forests?” Zayn bends over the desk.

 

“Not really no, usually on beaches and stuff like that. Whoever had these did not just pluck them from the ground.”

 

“They had to grow them themselves.” Finishes Zayn

 

“My guess yes.”

 

“Do they mean anything?” Comes Niall.

 

The woman closes her eyes and thinks for a moment.

 

“ Well some time ago  they were used as a treatment for the bites of rabid animals.”

 

Zayn nods at that and stares at Niall. Niall seems to sense the same thing and he begins to think as well.

 

But then she continues. 

 

“They also mean "worth beyond beauty" in flower language.” She stares back and forth between the two men.

 

“And what about the white rose.” Prompts Niall.

 

“What do they mean?”

 

“Innocence, purity, and sympathy. It was the original sign of love before the red rose.”

 

“And so when combining them all..”

 

“Basically means that the boy was buried with his purity and beauty.” She finishes.

 

Niall looks at Zayn in a panicked look.

 

“No. This can't be right. Maybe the killer is just messing with us, maybe he found those flowers and used them.”   
  


“I wouldn't bet on it, takes a lot to just randomly find these alyssums, especially this much.”

 

“Maybe, he didn't know what they meant, maybe he just thought they looked pretty.”

 

Its Zayn's turn to speak.

 

“Unlikely.”

 

The three of them stare at the photos in silence, tiny purple flowers and white roses dancing in their brains.

 

“Well what do you think?” Niall finally asks and the woman stares at Zayn.

 

“I think.” He starts and begins picking up the photos. “We are going to be late for the press meeting, I also think whoever killed the boy might have some history with him, more than we thought. I also think we might have to meet back up with the help.” He throws the pictures in his desks and locks it.

  
  


Niall just continues to stare.

 

He watches as Zayn pulls on his jacket and fixes his hair.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because maybe they knew something about Louis’s stalker.” Niall looks shocked but Zayn ignores him. Instead he opens up his office door and waits for Niall and the woman to leave out first. When they do, he takes one last look at his desk, zeroing in on the photo of Louis, the one Mr. Tomlinson gave to him yesterday.

 

_ He was love. _

 

_ He was such a good boy. _

 

_ He was love. _

  
Zayn shuts and locks the door. Tiny purple flowers, white roses and blue eyes clouding his vision.


	8. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im starting up my schedule now. Its going to be updates on Fridays. Hopefully Ill stick to it. If you guys want me to make a polyvore, showing where I got the inspiration and what the characters are wearing let me know. Anyways enjoy.
> 
> Ashxx

_ December 31, 1957 6 days after _

  
  


I notice a crack on the wall when I entered the main dining room.

 

It sits like a secret, almost hidden behind a painting of my great grandfather. The painting sits on the left side of the room and while there is barely any light (the sun hasn't came out yet for it was  5 in the morning) I could see the crack loud and clear. 

 

It made me laugh.

 

For a perfect mansion made of gold and history to start cracking and falling apart. I couldn't help but to spit out a dry chuckle at the irony of how something so perfect on the outside be falling apart on the inside. While it was only a small crack, webbed out like thin veins underneath pale skin it was still a crack. A sign of the condemned. The broken.

 

Mary didn't notice the crack. 

 

Neither did Lane.

 

Even James who oversees everything in the Tomlinson Manor, every detail of a detail, overlooked this thin but powerful crack. Though I couldn't blame him for he was distracted by a certain outcome of events in which he was seated in the main dining room, being questioned once again about my disappearance and murder.

 

The detective, Malik I was told stared at James with something unreadable in his eyes. The brown irises stuttered with questions and suspicion and I just felt sick about it.

 

Did the detective think it was James?

 

“Mr. Monroe, sorry to be bringing you down here so early-

 

“Nah that's no problem detective no problem indeed, I already up ‘bout this time anyway. Making sure the Tomlinsons got what they need and what not.” He cuts detective Malik off. It was a nervous tic of his.

 

I don't miss how the detective's eyes narrow at that.

 

“How long have you worked for the Tomlinsons again?” He opens his notebook and I can feel my unbeating heart sink.

 

“ ‘Bout 18 years I think.” James watches the detective scribble something down.

 

“So basically for all of Louis’s life?” Malik continues.

 

“Yes, practically raised him myself.”

 

It's true.

 

Malik continues to write.

 

“Were you and Louis close?”

 

“I say yes, after all he had about no friends, and I wuz with him just about all day, we became friends because we had to. “

 

“So you guys spoke about pretty much everything am I right?” The detective prys.

 

“What do you mean?” Asks James.

 

“Mr. Monroe before Louis’s disappearance did he tell you about a girl, someone he might have met or been going steady with?”

 

James looks a bit taken back by that but he recovers just as quick.

 

I stare at him, wondering what he will say.

 

A few heavy moments pass between the two, its silence but it's the kind of silence that answers the questions that are being asked. Malik realizes the silence is giving him his answers and he pushes more urgently.

 

“Did he tell you her name?”

 

James ignores Malik and focuses his attention on the painting on the left wall, the one of my great grandfather.

 

“He told me he was in love.” He simply replies.

 

I stare at James and wonder if he can see that crack as big and clear as I do.

 

Malik, who is both unaware and unbothered by the crack continues.

 

“Did he give you her name?” He asks, voice strong and a little cold.

 

“It wasn't a her.” James says tightly.

 

_ Hold it in James.  _ I say.  _ Don't let him get the best of you _ .

 

“What do you mean it wasn't a her? What was it-”

 

Malik cuts off with realization.

 

Silence fills the room again this time it's more thick and uncomfortable.

 

“I don't believe you.” Malik is shaking his head.

 

“I don't care if you do, it's the truth.” James is still staring at the painting, broken stars and ruined moons hanging in the dark browns of his eyes.

 

Malik turns his head to the side and swallows thickly.

 

“If it was a boy, what was his name?” He says slowly, almost as if he is trying to mask the new found disgust and hatred towards the butler. 

 

“He didn't tell me all this. All he told me was that he was going to be at the christmas party. He told me the young man was kind and sweet, and shared similar circumstances of his.” James repeats my sentences word for word.

 

He was always a good listener.

 

“Well his father tells me Louis didn't have any friends, he also told me if anyone would know anything about the boy it would be you and the maids, you telling me Mr. Tomlinson is a liar?” It's an accusing tone and even I can feel the sinking stomach feeling that has found its way into Mr. James’s body.

 

“Na I didn't say all that. I told you what I know, what Lou told me his self. This is all I got I can't give you answers I don't have.” He stopped looking at the painting but instead focused his attention to the detective. Looking him in the eye almost to prove that he was being as honest as ever.

 

Malik doesn't buy it.

 

He sucks in his cheek give James a look of pure hatred.

 

“Ok.” Is all the man replies with.

 

James nods his head and stands, adjusting his suit and shaking his limbs out. He is trying to calm himself down. It was another one of his nervous tics.

 

He bows to the detective and says lightly, “I will send Lane out here to speak to you at once.” He is turning around when Zayn cuts in sharp.

 

“That won't be necessary, I won't be needing Mary either. But Mr. Monroe?” The butler turns to face him, chin tilted to the sky eyes fixed back on that cracking wall.

 

“Do you garden for the Tomlinson Manor?” Is Maliks final question.

 

“Yes, they only trust me regarding the flowers and nature of the outside surrounding the manor.” He says this in a formal tone, one I'm not so familiar with.

 

“So you know something about flowers huh?” Malik says and you can hear the slick sliding off his wicked tongue.

 

“To some degree yes I guess so.” James balances his head to reach both sides, almost to look like he is thinking but Malik is already far past this.

 

“Thank you Mr. Monroe, I look forward to meeting you again, shortly.” He gives my butler a look. A look that even makes me feel like I've done something wrong.

 

James nods once more, and watches with tears brimming his eyes as the detective opens up the heavy door and squeezes through it swiftly. He is then left to the walls of the dining room, he is left with his imagination and wonder at what punishment will be bestowed on him for this unpleasantly interview.

 

The scene around me begins to ripple into an unfocused blur of color and I close my eyes to stop myself from becoming dizzy as I make my way back to the loud walls of Harry's room.

 

When I do open my eyes I am met with a much more different scene than what I expected. 

 

It looked like a family room. And in the family room sits a family. Harry’s family.

 

They sit tall and powerful, just like Harry. Identical green eyes and thin yet full lips. Pale skin with dark hair with a texture of silk.

 

_ Stunning. _ I say.

 

There is a silence engulfing the room and it seems that maybe there was something going on before I got here.

 

I was right.

 

“You didn't even know the boy Harold.” Harry’s father sighs. “I just don't understand why you get so worked up about things that don't involve you son.” He shakes his hard as he speaks, the sunlight of the early morning shines against his watch to project a blinding streak of light across the wall. Harry stares at it as his father speaks. Then finally after a long pause of silence filled with unsaid words of hatred the boy speaks, voice hoarse almost as if he was screaming.

 

“You don't have to know someone to feel sadden by their lost father, not everyone is as heartless as you.” It's a spit of a sentence and I myself take a step back from its sharpness but Mr.Styles moves not one inch and flinches none.

 

It was like he was used to it.

 

“Maybe not everyone is as heartless as me.” He begins and picks up the paper placing a cigar in his mouth after doing so he continues. “But not everyone is not as ignorant and gullible as you son.” And while he doesn't spit the words like Harry, they still sting. 

 

Harry looks away from the wall holding the skinny line of light to look at his father with horror and cluelessness in the greens of his eyes. “You will never understand the purpose of love father, and for that it is you that is ignorant, not me.” Through all of this Mrs. Styles sits on one of the expensive couches, looking identical to an ornament, legs crossed, shoulders relaxed and posture extending. If she hears the discussion she is choosing to ignore it, instead she focuses her attention to the young boy cleaning the windows outside. A thin hint of a smile on her lips as she watches him.

 

“I said nothing that could prove me to be ignorant to love son.” His father flips the page.

 

“You said everyone dies eventually.” Harry snaps. 

 

“Is it not true? Look here I’m sorry about the Tomlinson boy I really am, he seemed kind and well established when I met him, but who knows what he was doing behind closed doors. Not everything is pretty on the inside as it is on the outside, you know.”

 

I think about the crack on the wall.

 

“If that's the case then why don't we began on reasons why your insides show faulty wiring of both understanding, and love. What happens behind your closed doors father? Will you also be strangled because you can't thaw that frozen beating thing in your chest. Or maybe when no one's watching will you take off the veil of kindness and well establishment and wait in a forest full of flowers to be murdered?” Harry stares at his dad when he speaks this, and his dad stares back.

 

“The day I'm murdered will be the best day of your life, huh Harold?” He has a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“No, only because I believe the after life will be too kind to you and what you deserve.” And with that Harry stands and walks out of the room.

 

I follow.

 

I always follow.

 

He sits on his bed. Hunched over into a shell of himself as his pale skin becomes paler in the sunlight of the early morning. 

 

I watch him with wonder.

 

He defended me.

 

The man who murdered me defended me. And the worst part of it all was that I was not only thankful for this, but also warm from it.

 

It makes me shiver.

 

I move closer to Harry his silenced and cracking body stills against the air.

 

I want to touch him. I can see the gears in his brain turning, the anxiety practically oozing out of him. I want to relax him, tell him to calm down but I can't.

 

So I speak.

 

_ Thank you.  _ I say. 

 

As if on cue he begins to speak.

 

“He thinks you were some kind of closeted monster, but he is the real monster. Its him that deserves to live, and suffer the horror that is this world, the unfairness of sadness and a deep oblivion of hatred and repeated routines of vacant smiles and fake love. It's not true at all Lou, you must realize that what I did was save you. Save you from people like him, people who can't love, who can't understand, who will only take advantage of your kindness, and you were too pure for that. I put you somewhere safe. Somewhere you will entirely live in bliss and understanding that you are in fact an angel. There was nothing wrong with you Louis, there  _ is  _ nothing wrong with you my love.”

 

My knees shake when he calls me love. 

 

I walk around from behind him to see he is speaking to my ring. Its clutched in his hands like it's the last air on Earth, like if Harry loses it he will be lost forever.

 

_ Take care of that ring _ . I finally say. Im staring at it as I listen to the sounds of Harry's crying and heavy breathing.

 

“I love you Louis.”

 

He shakes as he stands and puts the ring in his right pocket.

 

I become angry, confused, and sadden with the words coming out of my mouth.

 

_ I love you too Harry. _

 

He leaves the room again but this time I don't follow. I only stand in the center of his room, searching for cracks in the walls like mine at home but I don't see any.

  
  


_ Maybe the cracks are all inside of Harry.  _ I think.

  
I was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any errors.


	9. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys.  
> I have a really big surprise coming up soon, and I know most of you are going to love it.  
> cant say anything right now but just know its going to be big.  
> Anyways sorry for any errors and I hope you enjoy.  
> Ashxx

_ January 15, 1958 21 days after _

  
  


Its when you want more time that it goes by quickly.

  


This is the summary of what I’ve learned.

  


And it's with my murderer, I fall in love. 

  


I watch the way the world spins in that little crack on my wall. I watch how time moves by and see how the people around me start to decay.

  


I thought time heals all wounds.

  


It seemed like it did not.

  


I didn't see Detective Malik around, not after his questioning with James. The house stayed the same. Dressed in gold yet cold. My father still went to work, except every time he came home, he took a beer out of the refrigerator. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another.

  


A few nights ago he went into my room and stole my rose colored lipstick. He keeps it in his pocket. 

  


The workers at the Manor continued to do their job. It got a little hard to do it though since they had no teenage boys running amok and spilling juice on the counter. No one who specifically asked for a piece of toast cut into quarters with a tiny bit of butter on it, no crust for breakfast. Or no one to request daisies on Sunday mornings. They found it the most hard when they went looking for those daisies in the places I would hide them in, to be completely empty. 

  


Lane missed her daisies. She loved when I did that the most. There she would be going, about her day, mopping floors and cooking lunch when out of nowhere she would open that top counter all the way to the left to get the salt, and there laid a white daisy, soft and young freshly cut. She would always yell at me and say it causes mess but I always seen the way her eyes lit up with the flower in her hands.

  


Sometimes, when no one's around, Lane puts her own daisy in the cabinet. I think she pretends its from me. 

  


Mary goes into my room to sweep. But that's all she does. The first time she tried to make my bed, my dad caught her and threw a fit, almost put his hands on her he did. She screamed about how sorry she was and that she wouldn't do it again, and that she forgot that I was gone. My dad gave her one nasty look and told her to scram. Mary cried into Lane’s shoulder all night that time. Going on about how she misses me just as much as my father does. She says she was just doing her job and that for a moment it felt like I was still there, just outside collecting daisies to hide for everyone.

  


James told Mary and Lane to think like that. 

  


“Just pretend he outside gettin’ some of those flowers he like.” James was shaking his head.

  


One day Mary told my father to think like that.

  


He slapped her.

  


But she forgave him the moment he fell into her arms crying about how sorry he was.

  


Lane still puts the daisies in the cabinets.

  


James walks around cautiously. He’s always looking over his shoulders waiting for Malik to come back again. Waiting for anyone to come actually.

  


“Just imagine if anyone found out I was being questioned twice.” James said one night. “I be swinging on one of those trees before I could get my hands up.”

  


I shiver at that.

  


Nonetheless he cleans and cooks and makes sure the Tomlinson Manor is in tip top shape for the day my mother returns.

  


My mother.

  


She has been the only person I have not seen since the day I died. Sometimes it feels like I'm forgetting her and the way she looks and then Liam laughs at me.

  


_ Silly boy, you can't forget your own momma! You'll always remember her, just like she'll always remember you! _

  


Sometimes I think Liam is right. But sometimes I think he is wrong. If she remembers me, why isn't she here?

  


I wait for my mom. 

  


When I’m not on Harry's shoulder or standing next to Lane as she stuffs the daisy in the cabinet, when I'm not with Mary as she sits on my fathers and mothers bed trying to calm my dad down, I sit by the window. The one facing the city and stare out almost as if I'm searching and waiting for her to come back. 

  


She never does.

  


Not even for my funeral.

  


Irish bagpipes play which I find rather peculiar considering I'm not Irish. I see people I recognize, I see strangers and I see my father.

  


But not for one moment of time do I see the brown hair of my mother or her blue eyes that look identical to a pale blue sky on a spring day.

  


She didn't come.

  


I try not to let it hurt me that much.

  


Maybe she was just tired.

  


My father takes over the duties of this event. Saying “ _ thank you’s” _ and “ _ I know’s” _ and “ _ Jo is not feeling well that's why she isn't here _ .” He shakes hands and kisses cheeks. He looks hollow and breathes deep. 

  


Harry and his family come to the funeral. 

  


He looks nice in his all black suit, piercing green eyes being his greatest accesory.

  


Harry has been a mess all day.

  


At first he wasn't going to go but then he was going because he said I needed the respect I deserve. 

  


_ Thats kind of you. _ I say.

  


Harry cried 4 times already, before he even got here.

  


Once when he woke up, clutching my ring and rocking back and forth.

  


“I miss you so much my love.” He cried.

  


_ I miss you too. _

  


The second was when he got in the shower. His screams and hiccups being drowned out by the water crashing on his body and tiles. 

  


_ Hush darling. _

  


The third was when he was getting dress. Silent tears running down his face as he does his tie and buttons his jacket.

  


_ You look lovely. _

  


And the last time was before he walked out to meet with his family.

  


He kissed my ring and slipped it on his ring finger. One tear sliding down his face, slow and painful.

  


_ Your family is waiting Harry. _

  


And here we are.

  


The corner of Westwood Village where the sky looks like a beaten shade of blue and a chill that wasn't created by the wind. The grass is green yet it seems dead, maybe from the bodies hiding beneath it.

  


Maybe from my body beneath it.

  


I watch unrecognizable faces as they blur through my vision, frowns and thin lines painted on their faces in an effort to appear as miserable and broken as my father.

  


Lane and Mary stand next to my father. Lane holds daisies and Mary holds my father. 

  


James hands out dark colored roses and some murmur thank you while others take it without a word.

  


Harry says thank you. 

  


He takes the rose gently, never breaking eye contact from James.

  


“What does the color mean?” Harry asks.

  


“What do you mean?” James replies. They stand off to the side. A sea of grey clouds hovering above them in an icy picture.

  


“You're giving out black roses, what is the symbol?” Harry stares at the roses this time. Green eyes scanning the rose in an attempt to understand it.

  


“Well I don't know, mourning I guess. They black.” James shrugs.

  


Harry shakes his head.

  


“But you don't know for sure.”

  


He sighs and continues.

  


“Not everything is as it seems.”

  


“ ‘m sorry, I don't know, never planted roses befo’.”

  


They stare at each and it's so intense I look away.

  


James squints his eyes and for a moment I feel like he knows. He has to know, he knows everything.

  


But he says nothing, and he looks away.

  


“I be sure to look it up, then tell you what it mean.”

  


Harry puts on a small smile at that.

  


“Thank you sir, I would appreciate it.”

  


They separate.

  


I follow Harry.

  


There's something about the air here, that's what I notice. 

  


A deep wind that's seemingly coming from nowhere. An eerie sound, almost identical to the cry of a crow yet there are none around. 

  


My unbeating heart aches with every step I take to my coffin. 

  


I can feel it in Harry too.

  


I want to reach out to him but I can't so I speak.

  


_ Youre alright. _

  


Almost on cue, he begins to twirl my ring on his finger, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes full of thoughts and a darker shade of green, bruised just like the sky.

  


“Cold?”

  


Someone says.

  


I recognize the voice almost immediately but I don't bother to turn around, shock crawling in my veins.

  


I can feel it in Harry too.

  


But unlike me he speaks.

  


“A little, though I don't know why.”

  


The man laughs.

  


“I suppose it's just the setting, no one exactly feels warm in a funeral especially one-

  


“In which someone has died so young.” Harry cuts in.

  


The man whistles.

  


“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  


Detective Malik walks towards Harry's turned back and stands next to him. He's looking towards my burial but I know he is actually look further than that. At what I don't know.

  


“Well I think that's what everyone is thinking sir. We are all a little bit uncomfortable, not because of the death, but because of how.”   
  
“Sad ain't it?” Malik asks.

  


“It makes my heart ache as if it were me.”

  


The detective looks at him at that.

  


“Pardon?”

  


“I'm just saying, Louis was my age, that could've been me. Thank goodness it wasn't but it could've been, that makes me feel sick and sad, would you not feel the same detective?”

  


Malik stares at him, something unreadable in his eyes.

  


“You know me?”   
  
“We all do.” Harry answers.

  


“You're the hotshot detective working on a history changing murder, you're all over the news.”

  


“What kind of kid watches the news?” The detective shifts from one foot to another.

  


“I guess I am a bit different.” Is all Harry says. I scoff at that.

  


_ No really? _

  


Malik looks at him again. His eyes traveling up and down the boy.

  


“You knew Louis?”

  


“Barely. He’s the son of one of my father's colleagues. I met twice maybe.” Harry doesn't look at him, instead he focuses his attention on that little piece of nothing Malik was looking at earlier. 

  


Malik hums in response and for a minute or two they stare in silence.

  


“Did you get one?” Harry signals to the delicate roses in his hand.

  


The detective shakes his head.

  


“No. Where did you get it?”

  


“Oh, the butler is handing them out, youre supposed to put it on the coffin before it goes….down.” Harry looks away and I can feel his itching to twist my ring again.

  


But he doesn't.

  


Zayn swallows hard at  _ butler. _

  


“James?” He asks.

  


“I think that's his name.” Harry answers, unknown as to what he is saying.

  


Malik sharply turns in the direction of James and he’s about to stomp over there but Harry reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

  


“There's no need for that now, here, take one of mine.” 

  


Harry swiftly removes a black rose from his hand and gives it to the detective, all the while keeping an intense stare.

  


“Thank you.” Malik says quietly.

  


“Anytime, I think it's easy to turn a little cold in a circumstance like this.”  He signals to the scene around them, the  _ death _ around them.

  


“We have to stay as kind as possible. You never know what's going on with anyone here.” He smiles and the detective returns a slight smile.

  


“Thank you…?”

  


“Styles, Harry.” Harry holds out his hand and Malik shakes it.

  


“Thats a nice ring, is it real gold?” Malik asks once they release.

  


Harry looks down at it, ruined memories in his eyelashes.

  


“Yes, it belonged to the love of my life.”

  


My jaw drops with the brazenness of it all.

  


But the detective doesn't notice anything at all.

  


“Is she here as well?” 

  


“No, she left, she won't be back for a long time.” He deflates at that and my heart breaks a little.

  


“I'm sorry to hear that Harry.”

  


“Don't be, I’ll see him soon.”

  


My stomach drops.

  


“Him?”

  


“Sorry, her I mean, I'm terribly distracted it seems.”

  


Harry shakes his head.

  


“Right.” Detective Malik says.

  


“Well it was nice meeting you Harry, thank you for the rose.” He lifts the rose and Harry nods.

  


“Of Course, nice meeting you as well.”

  


They separate after that.

  


I follow Harry.

  


He’s tense for the rest of the ceremony. I can feel it radiating off of him, thick like his cologne.

  


I don't remember much after that.

  


I don't remember what the preacher said. I only remember the color of his fabric, a slick black. I don't remember the sounds coming from his moving thin lips. I just remember the way his eyes turned into oceans swallowing everyone up.

  


I don't remember noises. Everything was underwater. Foreign and far. Broken and bent. Contorted to an unrecognizable painting I was being forced to stare at.

  


I don't remember what my father said. I just watched his hands. Rough and big clenching the podium in an effort to still himself and his beating heart identical to thunder. 

  


I heard it all the way in the back.

  


I couldn't remember what James whispered under his breath. Just the silent tears he continued to wipe off his face. 

  


I didn't remember Malik expect for when he would watch James, staring at him in anger, jaw clenched. Black rose between his long fingers.

  


I don't remember Mary whispering in my dad's ear. Only the way she held his hand, the way he held hers back. So intimate. People stared. I don't remember if they said something about it.

  


I don't recall Lane talking at all. For I only could see the daisies in her hands. Her brown lipstick smudged on one of them. She held them tight. She didn't let them go.

  


I remember Harry. But he said nothing as well. His eyelashes catching tears that wouldn't fall. His own black rose broken from his firm grasp.

  


And one by one they laid their flowers on my coffin. 

  


My father.

Mary.

Lane.

James.

Blurred family members.

Blurred friends.

Harry.

Blurred adults.

Detective Malik.

  


And then when the silence of the morning set into another rain cloud full of the color grey, they lowered my casket into the Earth. Eyes trained on the ground as Mary's cries were heard faintly.

  


I could've sworn there was a violin.

  


But I just can't remember.

  


I looked on with everyone and my insides suddenly felt on fire. I felt it again.

  


The time moving quickly just when I needed it.

  


I wanted to say goodbye to myself. I needed more time to let it go but it seems time was already finished for my body moved at an underwater pace and then I was gone.

  


Underneath.

  


Six feet under.

  


Really dead.

  


And when it was easier for me to remember things again I remembered the formation of everyone leaving.

  


The couple in the corner left first.

  


James left last.

  


Then it was me.

  


And a grey tombstone.

  


_ Louis William Tomlinson _

_ December 24, 1940 _

_ December 25, 1957 _

_ If only you had more time. _

  


“Please don't cry.” Comes Liam's voice.

  


“I'm sorry.”

  


“Please don't be sorry either.”

  


He touches my wrist. 

  


“I know it hurts, but it won't get any better like this. You must let it go, let go the idea of never existing again. You will still be there, just not in person. Don't get too worked up about it. If you do, everyone around you will feel it.”

  


I go to reply to him but then I feel a light tickle on the top of my head.

  


Looking up I see thousands of dark rose petals falling from the sky above my tree. 

  


“What's happening?” I ask.

  


“Are you still in love with him?” Liam completely ignores my question.

  


I look away from the sky and the raining rose petals to look back at him.

  


“I don't know, maybe.”   
  


“But he’s the devil.”

  


“You could be in love with sin.”

  


“But you shouldn't.”

  


“Why is it raining rose petals?” I try to ask again.

  


“Why do you love him?” Liam looks confused.

  


“He was trying to help me.” I say.

  


“He killed you.”

  


“He’s broken.”

  


“Louis!” 

  


I walk away from the tree to look over and in the distance I see the manor, lit up in gold except now it's currently being surrounded by black rose petals, matching the night.

  


“I can't tell you why I love him Liam, I can only tell you I just do.”

  


“Then you must want to be here forever.”

  


He leaves me alone after that. But I don't really care to go after him.

  


I'm still too busy watching the rose petals falling from the sky. 

  


I sigh. I should go after him.

  


He’s the only friend I got.

  


“Liam.” I call out.

  


“LIAM!” 

  


Then the rose petals stop. 

  


And for a second I think it's over, until it begins to rain daisies.

  


I gasp at it.

  


“Daisies?” Comes Liam, he walks back over staring at the sky in awe.

  


“I've never seen daisies at a funeral. Who gave you daisies?”

  


_ From Lane. _

  


I smile at that.

  


“I used to give them to my nanny, now she is giving them to me.”

  


“Thats sweet.” Liam goes to pick up some and so do I.

  


“You know in order for you to move on to heaven, you have to leave Harry right? He is evil and no good and he needs justice, you need to rest in peace...HEY!”

  


Tired of his advice I throw a handful of daisies at him and while they are light as a feather and dont hurt he screams “ _ ow” _ anyway.

  


“Fine I can do that to!” He picks up a handful of black rose petals and launches them at me, but before they hit me I run.

  


“Hey no fair! Why I outta!” He's smiling now and so am I.

  


And that's how my funeral ends. Having a flower petal fight as it rains daisies around us. And as morbid as it is, it's lovely nonetheless.

  


I stick a daisy in pocket, when Liam's not looking. And it's not until we are falling asleep underneath my tree -jazz music from the manor playing softly in the background and the december night sky twinkling like diamonds- do I notice that the daisy in my pocket has a little smudge of brown lipstick on one of its petals.

  
_ From Lane. _  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, see ya later.  
> Ashxx

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments or anything like that you can find me on tumblr @angelica-schuyller
> 
> Ashxx


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